Make the Most of It
by the-kings-tail-fin
Summary: Strip struggles to deal with Lynda's terminal diagnosis.


Private doctor's offices can be some of the most intimidating places on earth. This one in particular was a large, open, white and grey room, with a tidy desk sitting in the middle and several extensive bookcases behind it. Everything was so clean and orderly, like nothing could possibly go wrong to throw off the balance of the room.

It was a place designed to bear bad news.

Strip sat there in silence, next to his wife, thinking back over the past few months. Deep down he'd known something was off, but he'd just assumed that retirement was starting to get to them both. A lifestyle change often provoked other sorts of changes, and maybe, he'd thought, this was one of them.

But he knew better. Eight years ago, they'd attended Lynda's sister's funeral. Twenty five years ago, it had been an aunt. "It runs in the family." she'd told him. "Ever since anyone can remember." She'd said it so nonchalantly at the time, he didn't pay much mind to it. What they had was perfect. He'd never lose her to this disease.

Now he was kicking himself for his own ignorance. The symptoms were clear as day, so clear in fact, that Cal was the first one to verbally point them out, and he knew only very little about her family's history. Strip recalled that the first time he was forced to seriously stop and consider it was because Cal confronted him one night. It shouldn't have had to be that way.

He snapped out of his train of thought as the doctor entered the room with a clipboard and settled behind the desk. Strip could tell right away they weren't about to get the news he so desperately needed. Lynda looked so calm. How could she be so at peace when he was on the verge of a complete breakdown?

There wasn't much hesitation in the conversation that ensued. They wanted straight facts, and doctor obliged, albeit in a softened tone. He explained what the problem was and how it was progressing. He explained the lack of a complete cure, and what their options were in terms of remediating pain and gaps in mental function. Then he dropped the life expectancy bomb that shattered Strip's already fragile state of mind. It took everything he had to retain an air of calmness.

Lynda didn't outwardly react any more so than with an understanding nod. Strip knew that she'd always known this was a possibility. Perhaps she had come to terms with it a long time ago, he didn't know. All he knew was that their forty-five years of marriage wasn't enough. No amount of time would ever be enough for him, even if he had another hundred years. How was he supposed to deal with having only six months left?

He never thought she'd be the first to go. With the inherent danger in his career and the associated injuries he'd accumulated over the years, he would have bet serious money that he'd die first. But now he was forced to try and live the next half of a year to the fullest despite the inevitable outcome at the end.

Back home, there wasn't much to be said. Strip wanted to cry and scream and break something, anything to make the pain go away. He would do anything, give up anything, just to see her well again. But he sat in silence instead, leaning up against her, not taking for granted the feel of her metal against his. She returned the gesture, and tried to comfort him.

She explained why she wasn't upset. She'd lived a full life, and spent most of it knowing that this was likely going to happen sooner or later. She didn't regret anything, and the only thing she ever would would be leaving him behind on his own, but even at that, he'd learn to deal, even if he didn't want to. She told him how perfect he'd made her life. She couldn't have loved or have been loved more by anyone else. There was nothing about their relationship she would have changed.

After she finished her spiel, she looked over at him to find him staring down at his hood. She almost felt a little selfish as she imagined what he must be going through. Death didn't scare her in the least, and he needed to understand that, but maybe his problem wasn't that he was afraid for her. Maybe it was the idea of a life without her. She imagined losing him, and how she'd react. Poorly, that was the answer. Despite having been told her life was nearly over, she still felt like she got the better end of the deal. At least she wouldn't have to suffer afterwards.

But that was all in the future. They were still living in the present. She put on a smile and gave him an affectionate nudge.

"All that being said, I'm not gone yet. We've still got time, and we're gonna make the most of it, okay?"


End file.
